His Sons
by Kellen
Summary: Answer to a challenge. When Legolas and Aragorn are injured yet again Elrond comes to some not so startling conclusions.


His Sons

by Kellen

Summary: Answer to a challenge. When Legolas and Aragorn are injured -- yet again -- Elrond comes to some not so startling conclusions. 

Disclaimer: I make no money and the characters aren't even mine. The only thing I make are assumptions.

Rating: PG

Feedback: Love it. kellenanne@yahoo.com or kellen@writing.com or here. 

A/N: This is essentially an Elrond character study. I took the challenge scene - which consists of the first few paragraphs up to "the orc's blade was rising..."; that was written by Karri, of the Mellon Chronicles list - and started writing where it left off and Elrond demanded time and energy spent on him. Demanding little Noldo. lol. This makes a few assumptions, mainly being that Elrond cares deeply for Aragorn and that Aragorn and Legolas are good friends, and as such, some of Elrond's care and love for Aragorn spills onto Legolas. It also assumes that Elrond and Thranduil sometimes snipe at each other and sometimes disagree, but hold each other in respect. It also assumes that Elrond, wisest of the wise, has a sense of humor and is occasionally known to be rather acerbic. Hey, even the wisest of the wise has off days, as Elrond keeps telling me. He has been asking after a story of his own lately and this character study, I think, is a good step toward heading that way. So, the Dorwinion's on me, and let's all drink to Elrond and his sons...

Legolas remained standing by sheer force of will, but his body otherwise refused his commands, leaving him to helplessly watch the orcs move in for the kill. They seemed to move in slow motion-one aiming a blow at his head, and another thrusting his own elven blade toward his shoulder. 

The blade connected first. Piercing flesh, then muscle, it halted in bone, sending fresh tendrils of fire shooting down his arm and across his chest, but he didn't get long to dwell on it, as a club plowed into the side of his head with enough force to turn him toward Aragorn.

Fresh pain screaming with fury through his skull, Legolas' legs finally gave way beneath him. His gaze locked on Aragorn as he fell.

The ranger's eyes, wide with fear, fixed on the elf's, pleading with him not to die. Legolas smiled, reassuringly. Aragorn's situation was bad enough; he didn't want the human wasting thought on his friend's final moments. Frustration and helplessness surged through the elf in waves as several orcs advanced on the human. His eyes never left his friend's.

His eyes growing wider, Aragorn shook her head at the apology emanating from Legolas' eyes. He didn't want the prince to die believing he'd failed him, especially as Aragorn's own precarious situation mattered so little to the ranger at that moment. He didn't want to see what was about to happen, but he couldn't leave Legolas to suffer it alone, either. Forcing the terror from his _expression, he smiled, compassionately, as the orc that had clubbed Legolas twice already, raised his arm for another strike. Aragorn managed to hold his calm _expression, but couldn't help a flinch at the sickening sound of crunching bone as the blow smashed into the side of Legolas' already battered skull.

His dimming consciousness focused completely on Aragorn, Legolas didn't notice the blow. It was only the ranger's slight flinch that alerted him that some fresh hurt had been inflicted. He had no thought left to spare for it, though, for they were consumed by the horror that lay before him. His eyes full of mourning and regret, the sight of an arrow piercing Aragorn's chest seared into his memory as his vision slowly turned from red to black...and oblivion.

Aragorn barely noticed the flare of pain as the arrow pierced him. Neither it nor the advancing orcs were enough to distract him as he watched the light in his friend's eyes dim until they stared unseeing. He cried out in the anguish and forced himself to his feet as it became apparent that the orcs weren't finished punishing the prince of Mirkwood. 

Struggling forward, Aragorn watched in horror as an orc wrapped his fist around the arrow shaft buried in the elf's back, while another orc yanked Legolas' hands from beneath his body, stretching the prince's arms out straight. Distracted by the movement of the first orc as it screwed the arrow deeper into Legolas' back before mercilessly ripping it free, it took Aragorn a moment to realize the second orc's intentions. Then, he cried out again, but this time with fury, not anguish. 

He shoved heedlessly past the orcs that blocked his path. Caught by surprise, the orcs let him pass, not that the ranger would have noticed if they'd tried to stop him. Oblivious to all beyond Legolas and stopping the orc about to chop off his hands, Aragorn moved with the determination of the possessed. Even so, he knew that he wasn't moving fast enough. The orc's blade was rising...

Not happening, not happening, Aragorn thought as he shoved an orc out of the way; he bothered not with killing, just with getting through the mess. This will not happen. And with an obstinance born of man, he cried out. "I will not let it!"

The orc's blade began its downward arc intended to cleave through the prince's wrists. Briefly, Aragorn despaired at the good he would try to do. If the prince were already dead, as the man suspected, but flatly refused to believe, then what good would it be to save a dead elf's hands? 

Silently this time, Aragorn surged forward, practically climbing over bodies of milling orcs and thrust his sword forward. The tip of the longsword scraped against the orc's blade, and for one desperate moment, Aragorn thought he'd made things worse in his desperate attempt to save the elf. The dark blade skimmed along the edge of Aragorn's longsword and bit into the soft ground, barely missing the prince's wrist. 

Aragorn didn't take time to be relieved. Using the orc's momentary distraction, he came in and quickly dispatched the orc while the creature's blade still quivered in the dirt. 

The man turned to stand over the elf's body, bent on protecting his friend until his own last breath. It didn't matter that the elf had probably already breathed his last. He will be given the proper respect.

Green and yellow fletched arrows suddenly filled the glade as Aragorn swayed unsteadily. Oh, yes, there's an arrow in my chest. Fancy that. When did that get there?

Orcs dropped around him. Some fled, but the most notable thing was that there soon was no more fighting. Aragorn still stood over his friend, sword at the ready, and peered at the elven forms making themselves known. There was one he regonized; a second of Legolas' or some such rank. Men-something. An elf named Men. I bet he loves that, was Aragorn's inane thought. 

The man peered into the growing darkness -- was that him or was it getting dark? -- for more faces he knew. He should know two more. He blinked, thinking he was seeing double when a dark haired elf came toward him. Wait. Twins. Els. "Must you always be late to rescue?" he managed to mumble before falling into their arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Visit Mirkwood, yes, there's a right good idea. Elrond banished the wayward thought as he sidled past Thranduil to look in on Legolas. "It'll be fun, Ada." Right. Come and celebrate the solstice together. He looked around at the bloody bandages still littering the bedtable and floor. Some celebration. "I should know better," he muttered. 

"Anytime they're together, they need patched up."

"I'm afraid, good lord Elrond," Thranduil responded with an edge, "that this is a little more than a patch job."

Elrond snapped his gaze to Thranduil's drawn features and immediately schooled his countenance to one of concern and sympathy. "My apologies, King Thranduil. You know I meant no disrespect." Elrond took the time to remind himself that his stress tended to manifest itself in inane and inappropriate snappish comments and Thranduil's reared its head in irritability.

Thranduil nodded, swallowing the pride that had risen up, and placed his hand on Elrond's shoulder. The elvenking frowned at the tension emanating from the lord of Imladris. "None needed. Accept mine." Thranduil winced; now it sounded as if he snapped orders to the elf. "You left your own son in the hands of others to bring mine back to me. I am humbled."

Elrond blinked; only Thranduil could declare himself humbled in such a proud manner. Elrond allowed himself a small, weary smile. He and Thranduil, no matter how different they declared themselves to be and how often they butted heads, were more alike than either one of them liked to realize. But realize they did, and theirs was a friendship nearly as strong as the bonds between their sons'. The lord's and the king's care and concern for each other, though, tended to manifest itself slowly and awkwardly and looked more like animosity sometimes than friendship. Both knew it, both respected it and neither wished to change it. It had worked for millenia. 

"Legolas needed more urgent care," Elrond replied. He brushed the prince's hair back from his pale face. "Worry not, Thranduil. He will survive. He had the Valar watching over him; had that blow been at any less of an angle or a smidgeon harder, he would be dead. Still, I would keep watch over him at all hours for the time being."

"I will take care of that, daerada," came a soft voice from behind Thranduil. 

The king turned, smile already in place for his only granddaughter, and took the tray she was carrying. He offered a goblet to Elrond. "The finest Dorwinion?"

Elrond shook his head. "My thanks, but I wish to check with my own sons first."

Thranduil nodded in understanding and motioned to his red-headed companion. "Eldabeth will show you where they are, and will appropriate anything you need."

"Including the Dorwinion?"

"Up to and including," Thranduil assured the Lord of Imladris. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a somber and stern-looking Elrond who brushed past Eldabeth as she held the door open to his sons' room. She grimaced slightly; she was attuned to Thranduil's moods and actions, but had had almost no interaction with Lord Elrond and was at a loss. For a moment, she watched, ready to find anything the elves may have needed.

Twin elves looked up at their father's entrance, and both smiled. "He is all right, thankfully," one said while the other cleaned cuts and applied poultice to bruises on the man's face. "In pain, limited use of his arm and shoulder for a good while, and now asleep, thanks to Mener's ingenuity in finding some herbs we needed." 

The twin cleaning cuts looked up from his work and snorted. "You mean Mener's threats to break the healer's fingers?"

"Sounds like Mener," Eldabeth muttered, garnering attention. She straightened. "Have you need of anything, my lords?"

The twin who spoke first shook his head slowly. "You're Eldabeth, Legolas' niece, are you not?"

"It is as you say. You are either Elladan or Elrohir?"

"It is as you say." He grinned. "Elladan."

Elrond's voice drew their attention. "He wakes." Elrond leaned over his adopted son and laid his hand on the man's cheek. "Estel?"

Elladan turned and motioned Eldabeth forward. "Already? Those herbs should have keep him asleep for another few hours." He turned his gaze to Elrohir. "Shouldn't they have?"

Elrohir nodded, his hand on Estel's shoulder.

"I suspect he has something on his mind," Elrond said wryly. "He thought Legolas dead." His tone became heavy with compassion. "His heart is heavy."

"I had not thought of that," Elrohir whispered. 

"Nor had I, brother," Elladan replied. "Had I realized, I would have done things a little differently."

"No matter," Elrond replied briskly. "Done is done." He gave them a smile to soften the words and turned his attention back to Aragorn. "Estel? Do you hear me?" Without looking up, he spoke again. "Eldabeth, water please, if you will. He will be parched."

Eldabeth turned on her heel and crossed the room. Sounds of pitchers and glasses rattling could be heard and the twins turned in her direction, frowning. Elrohir gestured, holding out his hand and intentionally making it tremble. Elladan nodded, but made a slashing gesture. Later, if she still was around, they'd deal with it. 

A groan from the bed drew their attention and they found Aragorn's eyes, clear and lucid, upon them. "Els," he murmured. The twins smiled; Aragorn had a way of just calling them "Els" when he was too tired or too lazy to properly pronounce their names. 

"Hello, Estel," Elrohir said cheerfully, laying his hand back on the man's shoulder. "Welcome back to us."

Elladan dropped down beside Elrohir, but it was Elrond who held Aragorn's attention. The man turned pain filled eyes on the elder elf and opened his mouth to speak.

"He lives," Elrond assured him, then sobered. "Unconscious and will be for some time, but he was healthy and able to begin with."

When the pain in Aragorn's eyes lessened, but the question plain on his countenance remained, Elrond elaborated. "The arrow to his back nearly killed him, as did the blows to his head. He is a hard headed elf."

"But I heard..." Aragorn ground out. 

"The crunch of bone breaking? Yes you did, though not nearly as bad as you made it out to be, ion nin. Remember, you were in the heat of battle, you saw your dearest friend fall, and immediately thought the worst." Elrond brushed his son's forehead, surrepticiously checking for fever. When he found no sign, he moved his hand to stroke Aragorn's hair. "Make no mistake, Estel. He was hard hit and will require constant watching for now, and he has a long recovery. He may not remember what happened and may have some additional problems for a time."

A barely trembling hand reached into Elrond's line of sight holding a glass of water. Elrond took it, nodding thanks to Eldabeth. "Stay for a moment, my lady," he said as he turned back to Aragorn. "Water?"

"He is all right, then?"

"Oh, Estel," Elrond nearly laughed, "what have I been saying to you?"

"That he will have a long recovery," here Aragorn took a breath, "and may have additional problems."

Elladan rolled his eyes. "He always hears the worst. It never fails."

"Estel, listen." Elrond turned his gaze to Eldabeth. "You, as well. I saw and heard you trembling and worrying, Lady Eldabeth. Both of you mark my words. He will be fine, in time. A head injury always has a slow recovery, but it is not as bad as you two would make it out to be. Yes, he was in dire need of help. Yes, he was very near death." Elrond did not add that Legolas had stopped breathing and had, in fact, seemed well on his way to Mandos' Halls when Mener and Elladan managed to revive him on the battlefield. That little bit of information would not help the two he was trying to reassure. "Yes, he will live. He will the same elf we all know. He will be fine, given time."

Aragorn started to reply, as did Eldabeth. Elrond held up a hand. "Do not argue. The Lord of Imladris has spoken."

"You are in Mirkwood," Aragorn mumbled.

Elrond turned his gaze to Eldabeth. "Would the Lady of Mirkwood deign to argue?"

"Not when you declare my uncle will live," she stated matter-of-factly. "Had it been the other way, yes, I would very much argue."

Elrond smiled. "Some of that wine would be very nice about now, Lady Eldabeth."

"Anything else, my lords?"

"Send the wine, Lady, and then see about your own family."

Eldabeth smiled and left the room quietly. 

"I would see him."

Elrond glanced down, giving his son a wry look. "You are barely able to stay awake."

"Ada-"

"Son, you will see him. Soon enough. For now, you rest, as does he, all right?" Elrond held up the water glass again. "Drink."

"I will see him."

"Soon. Drink." For a moment, Aragorn stared at Elrond before relenting and allowing the elf to help him drink. 

"Sleep, ion nin," Elrond said softly as he settled Aragorn back down. "Sleep."

In moments, Aragorn had heeded his words and the man soon was snoring softly.

Elrond followed not long after, dropping his wine goblet before either twin had a chance to catch it. The twins quietly agreed to keep the spilled Dorwinion incident from Thranduil's ears, and left their brother and father to look in on Legolas, and then to find dreams for themselves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond later acknowledged that celebration did indeed come to Mirkwood when Legolas awoke with Aragorn by his side and Thranduil and Eldabeth occupying the room as well. And when Aragorn and Legolas sat in the gardens speaking, while the twins antagonized them, Elrond watched, a smile playing on his lips. Thranduil came up behind him and clapped a hand on his back. 

"Well, they are intact, the four of them."

Elrond nodded. "More or less."

"You are joining us for the dinner tonight?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Of course."

"Good, good." Thranduil nodded. "I've work to do, mellon nin." The King raised his eyes to take in his son as the prince laughed. "My thanks," he said quickly as he turned on his heel and strode away. 

Elrond smiled, shaking his head. He's not all that bad, he thought wryly. Much like his son, in many ways. He turned back to the four younger beings laughing under the trees. Two sons of his own. Twin sons. Twice as much trouble than your average elfling. And either one of them was more than a handful than the average elfing. One adopted man who held the fate of Middle Earth in his hands. Elrond's heart bled sometimes for him, but he knew Aragorn would give his all for the right cause. His gaze went to Legolas -- who still swayed heavily on his feet whenever he was up, but he flatly refused to stay in bed -- and Elrond smiled tenderly. One more blond-headed elf as loved as a son with quite a penchant for getting into trouble. He shook his head; that one, too, held a part of the future of Middle Earth, though Elrond knew not exactly how. 

He used to wonder facetiously sometimes why the Valar thought he needed more sons; they only complicated matters. Elrond knew, then and now, that he woud give nothing for a simpler life. 

His sons. His gaze rested on the four again. No, he didn't want a simple life. He wanted his sons, whether they be his flesh and blood or not. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THE END

Additional author's note: Eldabeth, obviously, is a character of my own creation; she is the daughter of Legolas' now deceased older brother. I will be posting a story called "Faith" shortly that explores that event. 

I hope you enjoyed the ride. Cheers,Kellen


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